


Tidal

by Owlship



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Kinktober 2016, Menstrual Sex, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-05-29 03:01:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15063563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlship/pseuds/Owlship
Summary: He shrugs, rubs the coarse material of his shirt through his fingers. "Sex helps with cramps," he says, and then, "Well, orgasms. Those help."





	Tidal

**Author's Note:**

> Another Kinktober '16 fic, originally posted [on tumblr](http://v8roadworrier.tumblr.com/post/152005345591/so-todays-kinktober-prompt-is-daddy-but-i-cant)!

" _Rust_ ," Furiosa curses in the middle of undressing, and he fights his way out from under his shirt with a touch of trepidation.

When his head's clear of the fabric Max looks at her, halfway out of her clothes herself and holding her hand in front of her with a sour expression on her face. He hums inquisitively, and she turns her hand so he can see that it's smudged with dark red blood.

His first instinct is a spark of worry- _where is she hurt?_ \- before he glances down, and sees that there's some red smeared between her pale thighs. He doesn't think he's ever been here when she's having her period- at least, not since they've been doing this.

"It bothering you?" Max asks, unsure of how she might want to deal with it. He's pretty sure there isn't any chocolate left in the world.

"It is _now_ ," she says mostly under her breath, and gives him a wry sort of smile. "Sorry."

He shrugs, rubs the coarse material of his shirt through his fingers. "Sex helps with cramps," he says, and then, "Well, orgasms. Those help."

Furiosa looks at him with a raised eyebrow, genuine curiosity in her expression as she asks, "You're okay with it?"

He shrugs a shoulder again. "'s just a little blood," he says. Granted, it's a little blood that has a tendency to get _everywhere_ when things like sex are involved, but it isn't as if he's a stranger to bloodstains.

She lets out a quiet breath, somewhere between amusement and a sigh, and says, "Get the blankets out of the way."

Max complies and strips off the patterned fabric in favor of the plain sheet underneath, dingy but bleachable, while she finishes getting undressed. She lies down on the bed and he forgets about anything for a moment but just looking at her as she stretches and relaxes, until she rolls sideways and looks up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You going to take off those pants?" Furiosa asks.

He shoves his leathers down and lets them puddle on the floor, climbing onto the bed to kneel besides her. She reaches for him and he leans down, comes to a rest lying next to her so they can kiss, the heat of the moment quickly building back up.

He runs a hand down the length of her torso and she shivers into it, rocking forward so her entire body seems to brush up against his. Max slides his knee between hers and ducks down enough to mouth at her breasts, laving his tongue over one nipple and then the other until they're both tight peaks and she's starting to rub herself against his thigh, his hardening dick pressed between their bellies.

Then he takes his hand away from sweeping the curve of ribcage to hip and slips it down to her pussy, dripping wet and hot against his fingers. Furiosa lets out a quiet noise and he doesn't even need to spread any of the slickness to cover her clit because it's already there, just redder than usual.

He swirls his fingers around, presses just _so_ over the top of it like she'd shown him, and she bucks her hips up against his hand. He covers one of her nipples with his mouth and plays with it the same as he's playing with her pussy, alternating between direct stimulation and backing off nearly all the way, teasing.

She has her hand wrapped around the back of his neck, not quiet holding him in place nor by the feel of it getting ready to tug him away. "Such a _smeg_ ," she complains when he switches to her other nipple and starts the tease all over again, a thread of fondness in her voice.

Max hums in agreement and slips two of his fingers up into her cunt without warning, earning himself a gasp. Her leg swings over his hip, increasing the access he has as he starts rubbing her walls, curling his fingers up as he searches for the right angle.

He finds it and Furiosa moans, tipping her head back so all he really sees when he releases her breast is the long line of her throat and the cut of her chin. He brings his thumb back to her clit and rubs it while he fucks his fingers against her, and thinks for a bit about eating her out like this, about how the blood will lay heavy on his tongue and stain his face.

She digs her fingernails into his back when she comes, pussy twitching against his fingers.

Max takes his hand away when he thinks she's done and brings it up to his mouth, licks the taste of her up off his skin. It's heavy, all copper and salt. Not at all like fresh blood from a wound, has none of the violence but instead an almost earthy sense to it.

"Better?" he asks.

"Was never cramping in the first place," Furiosa says cheekily, eyes dancing as she looks down at him.

He huffs a breath and presses his still-bloody hand to the center of her chest, bears his weight against her until she rolls over onto her back and he's crouched above her. "Guess you don't need more, then, hmm?"

"I didn't say _that_ ," she counters, the leg not caught between his cocked at an angle so she's open for him, inviting.

Max dips his head and kisses her, wonders a little if there's enough blood for her to taste it on his lips. She reaches her hand down between them and lays her fingers against his dick, thumbs back his foreskin and gives him a stroke while he groans into her mouth.

It isn't as if he needs to be persuaded to have sex with her, and after a quick adjustment he's pressing the head of his dick up against her opening. Furiosa sucks in a breath and he pushes in, sliding into her lush heat until he's buried to the hilt in it.

Her hand covers her clit, not moving yet but just resting against it in anticipation, and he draws himself back out before sinking in again, starting up a leisurely pace.

There's a smear of red on her chest where his hand landed, another blotch on the sheets where he set his hand down for balance, a few more spatters he can't account for. He doesn't bother pulling away from her enough to look at where he's disappearing inside her pussy but he knows it's already a mess of red and getting worse with every stroke he makes.

Max presses gentle kisses over the jut of a collarbone, keeps his pace steady even when she hooks her leg over his hip and bucks to encourage him faster, her pussy squeezing and squelching around him.

She even takes her hand away from herself to grab his ass, fingers digging in hard, but he's made up his mind about it. He replaces Furiosa's hand on her pussy with his own, circles around her clit in time with the movement of his dick inside her.

She hisses a curse at him before attacking his neck, sucking the skin over his jugular and scraping her teeth against where it meets the muscles of his shoulders. He groans and stutters his hips harder than he means when she slips her hand off his ass down to his balls, just about able to tease fingertips against the thin skin there.

It takes less than he wants to admit before he's giving in to her unspoken request, picking up his pace and thrusting harder into her until she's moaning under him, grasping at him. Max keeps touching her clit but speeds that up as well, adds that extra bit of pressure.

Furiosa swears and comes around his dick, her entire body seeming to contract around him in a wave, legs and arms and cunt tight and clutching. A moment later she falls back panting, eyes hooded and mouth red, and he takes his hand off her pussy to run up the flexing length of her stomach.

He thinks about resuming his slow pace now that she isn't so desperate but there's too much momentum built up in him now. Max kisses her open mouth and shortens his movements, gets as much friction as he can through all the slick wetness.

It doesn't take long before he's coming, hips stuttering, and he buries his face into the curve of her neck as he pulses into her.

For a long minute he's content to stay there, rocking his hips until he grows too sensitive and then simply lying against her. Furiosa runs her hand down his spine and lets him, before finally squirming in place.

"We need to clean up before this gets worse," she says, and he grunts in reply.

She's covered in red when he peels himself away from her, smeared thick between her thighs and with all the casual touches he gave her highlighted perfectly, the sheets an absolute murder scene. By the expression on her face he's sure he looks no better, can already feel the blood pulling tight and itchy on his skin as it dries.

Max walks to the water pitcher to start cleaning up with, but can only stare at it in dismay when he picks it up. "It's empty," he tells her.

She looks surprised for a moment, then glances down at herself and lets out a puff of laughter. "Not it."


End file.
